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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23484940">Broken Toys</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yessica/pseuds/Yessica'>Yessica</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Luther Hargreeves Needs A Hug, One Shot Collection, POV Alternating, Paralysis, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, no set update schedule</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 08:34:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,311</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23484940</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yessica/pseuds/Yessica</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They all turned to the door at the same time, Diego probably with some retort halfway out his mouth, though it never made it out completely. Vanya heard Allison smother a gasp and the empathic 'shit' Klaus let slip out.</p><p>Luther looked back at them, expression neutral and as if their shocked reactions weren't what he expected. Then, he cleared his throat and expertly rolled the wheelchair he was sitting in further into the room.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Luther Hargreeves &amp; Everyone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>118</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Broken Toys</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/EbonyWinterWitch/gifts">EbonyWinterWitch</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is based on a prompt by duckie-gordon on tumblr, which was a "what if" scenario about the incident leaving Luther in a wheelchair instead of what happens in canon, and how this would alter the story. I thought it was an interesting concept and I love my boy Luther so I decided to do something with it.</p><p>Gifted to EbonyWinterWitch because they're the one who brought the prompt to my attention and they're super cool and talk about Luther with me like the mvp they are!</p><p>This is a loose collection of one shots set in this au with no proper update schedule.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Vanya must have been staring at that door for a solid ten minutes before she could finally muster up the courage to go inside.</p><p>It shouldn't be as intimidating as it was. Really, she was just coming home - coming back - to the place she grew up in. And yes, maybe there weren't a lot of fond memories tied to this house, but there were some. Small pieces of joy she held onto on darker days and after the fallout of her book. She was trying to hold on to those pieces now as she pushed the handle on the front door, finding it predictably unlocked.</p><p>She wondered who would be here first. Vanya couldn't remember how long it had been since she had spoken to her siblings, besides the few text messages she had exchanged with Allison over the years. They had not taken to her biography kindly, as cathartic as writing it had been for her. Part of her doubted if they even wanted her here. If maybe they rather she kept out of it altogether, but at the end of the day they were family and this was important.</p><p>The entrance hallway was almost unchanged from how she remembered it, with tiles along the floor polished into a perfect shiny finish. Vanya stood there for a moment, shuffling her feet and clutching the shoulder strap of her bag closer, taking it all in. As a kid, she would often get the feeling of not belonging here and this hadn't changed either.</p><p>“Vanya?”</p><p>Allison was coming down the big stairway across from her, arms loosely at her sides and a small smile on her face. It instantly put Vanya at ease and she strode further into the house, ignoring the discomfort lingering at the back of her mind. “Allison.”</p><p>“I didn't know if you would come,” Allison said, though she seemed to regret it almost immediately, the smile slipping into more of a contrite expression.</p><p>Vanya shook her head. “No it's fine, I didn't uh... I wasn't sure if I should have come either.”</p><p>Allison leaned in for a hug and Vanya found herself opening her arms on instinct, receiving the physical affection hesitantly. They let go of each other just as quickly, though the smell of Allison's perfume lingered.</p><p>The silence that ensued was just slightly south of uncomfortable. Allison was the only one of her siblings Vanya had really spoken to in the last couple of years, but nothing more than vague pleasantries or holiday greetings and she didn't know many details of Allison's personal life aside from the rare gossip she picked up from trashy magazines, so starting a conversation about that felt unnatural. Her eyes wandered the room, recognizing the same paintings that had hung on the walls since their childhood, and lingered on the staircase. Nothing really had changed, except-</p><p>They both opened their mouths to start speaking at the same time, stopping and laughing about it. Vanya inclined her head, gesturing for Allison to try again but she smiled instead. “No, what were you saying?” she asked.</p><p>“The staircase,” Vanya started rather lamely, already regretting her thought before she could finish it. “It's just that I didn't know dad had gotten that bad.”</p><p>Allison turned her head, smile faltering. “Yeah, me neither.”</p><p>The sleek white rail that ran along the side of the staircase stood out against the more old-fashioned wood and the rest of the mansion's interior. Their father hadn't been too fond of technology, but Vanya guessed even Sir Reginald Hargreeves had to compromise when it came to mobility. Still, the stairlift looked as out of place in this house as Vanya herself did.</p><p>“Anyway,” Allison said, redirecting the conversation with the practiced ease that spending a lot of time at interviews and movie premiers had granted her and putting one hand on the small of Vanya's back, making the tight coil of unease in her gut unfurl a little. “I think the others are already waiting in the living room. You're up for this?”</p><p>“Not really,” Vanya admitted with a grimace, adjusting the bag strap for the umpteenth time. “But maybe I should just get it over with?”</p><p>They walked into the other room together. Klaus was splayed on the couch, gangly legs dangling off the end and he was even paler than Vanya remembered him being, which should probably concern all of them, but she didn't know if it was her place to say something. He greeted her with a wave, which she shyly returned. Diego was sitting on the other couch with his legs spread wide and arms crossed, the utter image of defiance. Vanya had a hard time meeting his eyes, the irritation on his face not helping matters any.</p><p>“What is she doing here?” he asked, addressing Allison instead of her.</p><p>“Diego...” The tone in Allison's voice was sharp-edged with unspoken warning and surprised Vanya. Diego waved it off with a hand motion, giving her the impression there was some prior conversation about her presence here she wasn't privy to.</p><p>“I know, I know,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes and tightening his stance some more, feet braced against the ground aggressively. “I don't care, really.”</p><p>Vanya knew he did care but just swallowed.</p><p>“I do hope Luther called us all here for a reason.” Klaus sat up a little, making room on the couch though neither Allison nor Vanya took him up on the offer. “I'm a busy person you know. Got places to be, people to see...” He trailed off at the end, lying back down when it became clear he got the seat all to himself.</p><p>Diego targeted him with another glare, though Klaus had his eyes closed and wouldn't notice. “I'm sure your drug dealers can wait.”</p><p>“Not if I want the good stuff.”</p><p>Ignoring him, Diego started to get up. “Whatever. I'm not going to be waiting around forever.”</p><p>“Twenty minutes is hardly forever, number two.”</p><p>They all turned to the door at the same time, Diego probably with some retort halfway out his mouth, though it never made it out completely. Vanya heard Allison smother a gasp and the empathic 'shit' Klaus let slip out.</p><p>Luther looked back at them, expression neutral and as if their shocked reactions weren't what he expected. Then, he cleared his throat and expertly rolled the wheelchair he was sitting in further into the room, maneuvering around the furniture as if he'd done it a million times before. He came to a stop on the other side, perfectly posed between both couches. “I guess we should get this started. So, I figured we could have a sort of memorial service-”</p><p>As if the mention of the funeral had snapped him out of his stupor, Diego cut into what Luther was saying. “Wait, what the fuck is this?”</p><p>Luther blinked at him, sitting back in a slightly defensive gesture. “I'm talking about Dad's memorial service.”</p><p>“Jesus, Luther,” Klaus groaned from the couch, scooting aside quickly so that Allison could sit down, because she looked about ready to faint. Vanya put one hand on her elbow to steady her.</p><p>“This. I'm talking about this!” Diego said, gesturing at the wheelchair.</p><p>Luther looked down at his own legs. “Look, we're not here to talk about-”</p><p>“No, we <em>do</em> need to talk about this.” Klaus got up to circle the wheelchair, almost as if to check if it was real. Vanya felt very strongly that was a bad idea, but Luther allowed him to examine it, even letting him grab the handlebars, though the breaks were on. “So when the fuck did this happen?”</p><p>There wasn't an immediate answer. Allison rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, not crying yet but coming close to it. “Luther, when?”</p><p>Luther was still staring at his feet, shrugged just a little bit. “Uh... about three years ago?”</p><p>There was another round of noises. Luther brushed Klaus' hands of the wheels he was now finicking with, while Vanya sat down next to Allison. Even Diego had deflated against the cushions, shoulders sagging.</p><p>“Why didn't you tell us?” Allison asked simply, pushing her hands into her lap. Vanya could see they were shaking.</p><p>“It's really not that important,” Luther said eventually, much too calm for the current situation. It sounded like something he had been rehearsing, practicing in front of a mirror. “And technically I did tell you.”</p><p>Allison sighed. “And you conveniently left out this part? You only told me you got hurt, not that it was this bad.”</p><p>“Wait, hold up.” Klaus had given up on his wheelchair explorations and was now sitting on the ground crosslegged. “Are you going to clue us in or is this the Allison-Luther club now?”</p><p>Diego chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “Just like when we were kids.”</p><p>After throwing him a look, Luther spoke to the room in general. “About three years ago I was on a mission and things went... badly. Spinal cord injury in the lumbar region. Grade B, sensory incomplete from the waist down.”</p><p>Klaus raised both eyebrows, leaned back on his palms. “That's a lot of big words to say you're paralyzed.”</p><p>“Pretty much,” Luther responded, clearing his throat again. “The injuries could be a lot worse, dad saved my life.”</p><p>The last part was added with a certain intonation that left Vanya feeling uneasy.</p><p>Diego just scoffed. He had taken out a knife from one of his many pockets and was fiddling with it one-handed, balancing the blade on a finger, a nervous habit he had since they were kids. “I'm sure dad was real fucking pleased to see his favorite toy broken.”</p><p>Vanya had to try not to cringe at those words. Even to her, it felt like a slap in the face and she wasn't the one they were directed at. She wanted to say something but anything that came to mind would only escalate the situation so she bit her lip instead, so hard she tasted blood.</p><p>Luther didn't say anything either, gripping the armrests tight enough to have his knuckles turn white. Then he released the breaks of his wheelchair and left the room.<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p>Waking up had been painful in more ways than one.</p><p>First, the literal pain. Luther could hardly move without pulling on some stitch or bandage and the throbbing in his head made concentrating enough to find the movements that didn't hurt in one way or another difficult. He probably spent the first hour or so just staring at the ceiling, every breathe shaking in his lungs, going over what happened in his mind.</p><p>He had fucked up. Fucked up real bad. He wasn't dead, he thought to himself, hadn't brushed close enough to justify failing the mission either.</p><p>But that was before he had tried getting up.</p><p>Even without leaning up onto his elbows, he knew his legs were still there. He could feel the cold metal against his skin, the faint brush of the cover against his toes. But no matter how hard he tried, Luther could not get them to move. His efforts only ended up with him rolling off the table and landing on the floor, the heart monitor spiking first at his accelerated heartbeat and then cutting off into a long monotonous noise as the cables disconnected. The IV pulled out of his arm and the stand clattered onto the floor next to him.</p><p>He knew he was about to puke but as it had been days since he had last eaten he only dry heaved from an empty stomach, sour bile at the back of his throat refusing to make its way out.</p><p>They explained it to him later, sitting in the temporary hospital-style wheelchair Grace got him until a proper one made-to-measure could be delivered. Luther pretended to listen, tuning out to what his father was saying for probably the first time in his entire life. He studied the books on his father's desk, the papers organized to meticulous perfection. With his fingers, he traced the grooves in the wheels of the chair.</p><p>He slept on the couch for a week, waiting for the stairlift to be installed. Grace offered to help him up to his room and Luther had yelled at her, screamed at her to leave him alone. Later at dinner, he apologized but still felt the guilt rest heavily in his gut.</p><p>His father, he barely saw. There were no more missions and no more training, leaving Luther with a lot of spare time to fill. Mostly he made model airplanes at the kitchen table or watched documentaries about space. Once he could go upstairs again, he would listen to his records too, though it wasn't the same anymore. His injury had confined him to the mansion in every imaginable way, making it hard not only to go outside but even limiting where he went in the house or what he did.</p><p>He broke the mirror in his room two months after the accident. The shards on the ground reflected him back in a kaleidoscope of ways as Luther stared at himself in them. He could grasp his knees and he could feel the pressure, feel the bruises of fingertips pressing too hard, but he couldn't move his legs. Would never be able to move them again.</p><p>It was the first time he wondered if maybe it would have been better if he had just died.</p><p>The thought was frightening, smothering, and he shook it off physically like it was something he could just unthink now that it was out there. “Dad saved me,” he told his reflection, staring into red-rimmed eyes he barely recognized. “Dad saved my life.”</p><p>And as much as he wanted to, he wouldn't allow himself to wonder if it was even a life worth saving.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="http://sharada-n.tumblr.com/">my Tumblr</a>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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